


Outings, Outtakes, and Other Nonsense

by Slybrarian



Series: Generation Gate [3]
Category: Generation Kill, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Coming Out, Crack, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-17 23:17:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17569814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slybrarian/pseuds/Slybrarian
Summary: Three ficlets too short to be separate. Contains:Five ways Nate came out to people, and two other ways he was outed.A brief scene built around the sentence "What are your intentions toward my Marine?"Brad being very confused in Iraq when an Air Force colonel shows up to scream at Ray about time travel. It makes less sense in context.





	1. Five Times Nate Came Out, Plus Two Other Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To be clear, in my case the situational homosexuality is not very situational." Or five times Nate came out, one time someone came out to him (technically two), and another time someone else outed him but, like, not in a bad way.

**1) Mike Wynn**

It was a week after the paddle party, and the day before Nate's flight out to Baltimore. Almost his entire life had already been packed up and shipped out, his old beater truck had been sold, and even his apartment keys had been handed over. Mike and his wife were letting him spend a couple nights on their basement futon, which was pretty generous considering the aftermath of the aforementioned party.

With that said, Cara had made it clear that she had her own entertaining to do that night, and suggested they might find somewhere else to spend a few hours. So it was off to a bar with them, albeit a relatively sedate one. If there were any Marines to be found, they were more Mike's type, quiet senior NCOs and family men more interested in pool or sports than whores and fistfights.

Their conversation was a little more stilted and stumbling than normal. They didn't have as much to talk about with the usual suspects removed, even with the enforced dividing line of rank removed. They weren't exactly people who'd hang out together if it weren't for the Corps. At the same time, there was enough, because you could say the same thing about Nate and his sister. Family was family - unless someone got disowned.

It was getting late when he finally worked up the courage to say something, enough that Mike was making noises about calling a cab to take them home. He could wait until the cold light of morning, but that might be worse than saying nothing at all. If there was a going to be a scene, better to do it among strangers than in front of the kids.

Nate downed a shot of liquid courage. "Mike, I don't know when I'm going to see you again."

Mike gave him a wry look. "Breakfast, I assume."

"And I know I've told you a dozen times how much your support has meant to me. How much I respect you." Mike waited for him to finish this time. "I don't know if I've ever lied about it directly, but if I have I'm stopping now. I'm gay."

"I'm going to need another beer." Mike said, signalling the bartender but otherwise his usual placid self. "Anything else?"

"What else do you want me to say?"

"You have a guy?"

"No."

"Huh." Mike took a sip. He seemed… surprised? Nate supposed if Mike hadn't suspected, then he must have been doing a pretty damned good job of keeping things under wraps. "Well, I'm honored that you told me."

"I'm sorry I didn't earlier."

"Nate, maybe I should remind you that you're no longer legally obligated to make excuses for things the Marine Corps forces you to do."

Nate cracked a smile. "I don't know, I bitched about a lot of other things when it was just us. But I take your point."

"You plan to come out to anyone else?" Mike said it a little too casually, one of those questions where he already had an opinion about what the answer should be but didn't want to say it.

"Maybe once there's something more to tell." Nate chuckled. "Or maybe I should just have it printed in Rolling Stone."

"Whatever makes you happy."

* * *

**2) Elizabeth Weir**

"You look like you had a long night."

"I was up late finishing this paper for you, had trouble sleeping, and then in the morning my boyfriend broke up with me after a screaming match about whether I was cheating on him with one of my Marines." And really, fuck him, Christeson and Stafford weren't even the same person.

"That sucks. Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

**3) Ray Person**

Ray was definitely trying to yank his chain. They were still feeling each other out, so to speak, a few days into a cross-country road trip between Maryland and Missouri. Virginia was in the rearview mirror, as were Walt and his family. ("Are you sure you've thought this through, sir?" he'd asked.) Ray was going to have to try harder than 'accidentally' taking them to a gay bar on drag night if he wanted a rise out of Nate.

"I swear, I had no idea it was this kind of place," Ray said, as if the tight jeans and low v-neck tee that exposed his tats were just a coincidence.

"Uh huh."

"We could find somewhere else if you want."

"Do they serve alcohol? Then we're fine."

And of course Ray took that as a challenge, so by the time the show really got started they were both well on their way toward hammered. Nate wasn't quite as well dressed - while packing he'd realized that at least four-fifths of his shirts were still either olive or khaki - but he was still having to fend off advances left and right.

"LT, you know I love tits and pussy, right?" Ray shouted over the music and cheering crowd, drunkenly leaning against Nate while they watched in awe as a sixty-year-old drag queen danced like she was a third that.

"I am assured of this."

"I love cock, too." He stared at Nate, wild-eyed and vulnerable. He looked like he needed a hug. Nate gave him one.

"So do I," Nate admitted against Ray's mouth. The sloppy makeouts and other things that followed were probably a bad idea, but fuck it, what was the point of a road trip if you didn't do something crazy?

* * *

**4) Sarah Gardner**

"So I understand the value of this as a training exercise," Sarah said as she and Nate watched a bunch of wet, shirtless Marines run past toward the climbing wall and the pyramid of (mostly) male muscle being constructed there. A few stragglers were still pulling themselves from the ocean. "But I'm not sure I understand all the touching."

"There's a book you should read," Nate replied. "It'd explain a lot about the homoeroticism."

"I already have. To be honest, it mostly confused me more."

Nate wasn't sure who put that ebook into the expedition's library, but he'd make them regret it someday. "I'll give you Brad's email, maybe he can translate. Or Ray." Actually, no, he wasn't going to let her ever meet Ray if he could help it.

"It's so much simpler with Jaffa. When they're being homoerotic, it's because they're angling for sex with another man, not trying to prove how straight they are."

"I don't quite get it myself. With events like this, I was always too focused on not getting a hardon to try to figure it out."

Sarah snorted. "No wonder you have so much self-control."

* * *

**5 )Laura Cadman**

"So you know how this place resembles a giant high school?" Laura asked as she spotted Nate at the weight bench.

"A lot of bases do."

"Well, I've been asked to ask if you might be interested in going on a date with someone."

Nate gave her a skeptical look. "I've heard about your idea of dating help. I don't think anyone involved has recovered from it yet."

"That was all McKay's fault. You can't blame me for what happened under the influence of a strange body. Anyways, Dr. Kusanagi's wondering if you'd be up for dinner."

"Please tell her I'm flattered," Nate replied, "but unavailable."

"Oh? Are you taken? Got yourself a Suzie Rottencrotch back home?"

"No, but if I did, he'd be more of a Sammy."

"Huh." Laura shrugged. "You'd think that'd be good news, given the male-female ratio around here, but the Marines throw everything off. I think Dr. Fitz is single."

"Still very much not interested in your attempts to help."

* * *

**+1 Brad Colbert**

Brad knew he was pushing things past the point of sanity. Drinking with your buddy after action was a time-honored tradition, not that a single cup of what was basically hard cider was going to produce even a mild buzz. Comforting him and telling he'd done well, ditto. Waxing poetic about his leadership and comparing him to the Captain of Gondor, well, Ray would be giving him shit for weeks if he'd heard that. But inviting him to share your bed and joking about rubbing off on each other, that went way past mandatory Marine homoeroticism and straight into the plot of a romance novel. He needed to back off fast, because he was on the verge of letting slip things he couldn't afford if he wanted to keep Nate's friendship.

Except then Nate looked into his eyes and said, "I only do that if a guy buys me dinner first," and even if his voice was light there was nothing but hard sincerity in that gaze.

'Oh, fuck, I'm an idiot', Brad thought to himself. His Marine training to act first and panic later saved his ass yet again, and he leaned in to kiss him.

* * *

**+2 Walt Hasser**

"Okay, so I'm just going to lay this out. Nate and Brad are fucking."

"Ray, you're not supposed to tell me this."

"No, Brad's not supposed to tell you this. I'm ripping off this bandaid rather than watch them dance around the subject with you for a month like they did me and Sarah."

"Could you two assholes have this conversation when we're not running from a fucking mob?"

"Sorry, Brad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I was being too subtle about which officer Ray fucked.


	2. Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which questions are asked about Nate.

"So, uh, there's something I need to ask," Laura said as she and Nate jogged along a seaside path. 

"Go on."

"What exactly are you intentions toward my marine?"

It took Nate a few seconds to figure out what she meant, which helped him keep a straight face rather than display any surprise. "Intentions toward your marine?" he repeated slowly. "Which marine?"

"What other marine could I mean?" she replied with a roll of her eyes. "My platoon sergeant. Your team member. The one and only Gunnery Sergeant Colbert."

"I'm sure there's any least one other. It's a common name."

"Right, sure, just like there's supposedly a Colonel O'Neil-with-one-L. Look, I can't ask him, but you're a civilian so you're fair game."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're implying."

"What I'm implying is that I'm pretty sure he's got it for you hard. There's some days he can barely take his eyes off you. Half our discussions about tactics, training, or just about anything else include a mention of what Captain Fick did or found useful. He saved you his ice cream ration when you were laid up in the infirmary!"

"I'm sure he would have done the same for Ray."

"He was in the next bed over and didn't get shit." Which was completely true. Nate had heard about it at length. 

"Assuming you're right," Nate said, "about this hypothetical schoolboy crush, why are you talking to me about it? Shouldn't you be pretending it doesn't exist?"

"I just don't want to see a man who's taught me a lot about being a marine get hurt. If you're not interested, you need to let him down easy. At least stop accidentally flirting or doing that thing with your tongue. Or…"

If Nate had been surprised earlier, now he was amused. "Or?" 

"Or make a move yourself or something," Laura said, throwing her hands up. "Give him chocolate. Fix him dinner. I don't know, the major was super vague about it all."

"The major," Nate said, eyes narrow because now he was heading back toward annoyance, "was vague about how I should approach dating a male marine?"

"I'm not an idiot, I didn't say it was you two. I just said that I thought one of my guys was being lead on by a civilian scientist and wanted to know how to deal with it. He said civilians can be oblivious to this sort of thing and I should talk with you."

"Did he?" Lorne had looked entirely too pleased with himself when they'd met earlier to discuss which platoons to bring to an upcoming harvest. Nate had figured it had involved Sheppard and paperwork somehow, but now he was revising that opinion. "Major Lorne should keep his nose out of other people's business and stop being a shit-stirrer."

"Well my usual go-to options for advice were the two men involved, so…" Laura stopped talking. She glanced at Nate suspiciously. "You're taking his awfully calmly."

"Well, it's very flattering. I'm assured he's never had trouble finding companionship."

"Nate."

"Although between you and me, I always suspected he was nailing Person on the side."

"Nate!"

"All I'll say is that, as one officer to another, there are times you really don't want to know what your men are doing. Or who. And that your concern is noted, but Brad's heart will not be broken anytime soon."

"God, sometimes I wish I'd joined the Army. Marine men are the worst."

"McKay is the worst."

"Alright, Marines are second worst."

Nate considered it. "That seems fair."

They jogged a while longer. "So he's treating you well, right?"

"What part of don't ask is so hard?"

"You're a civilian, as you like to remind us every time we call you sir. I can ask you whatever I want."

"Maybe it's just Marines in general that are the worst, women included." 

"Probably." She kept watching him expectantly.

"He's a perfect gentleman and treats me well, yes. Very well, if you know what I mean."

"Good. If you need anyone to talk to, you know where to find me." Matters of love apparently settled, she immediately switched tracks. "So do you know what's up with this feud between Zelenka and Bryce?"

"Some sort of World Cup bullshit."

She sighed. "Of course it is. Europeans are the third worst for sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally, my outline reason for why Nate gets a clue and makes a move on Brad was someone, either Lorne or Cadman, asking "what are your intentions toward my Marine?" I never could quite figure out how to fit it in, especially after I hit on the idea of the after-action frottage fest, so here's what got cut. Now set some vague amount of time after the first fic.


	3. Some Kind Of Time Crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brad is really confused, Nate is over this bullshit, Ray wants to shoot Encino Man, and JD is cranky because the only thing worse than being eighteen is having shitty knees again. Also, Sam shows up.

Brad was on the way back from the shitter when he noticed something odd. He couldn't think of a good reason for a certain RTO to crawl out of a hole at the rear of RCT-1's headquarters building and high-tail it off, but he'd recognize that bony ass anywhere. He considered, briefly, letting it go. Command was making noises about them being shipped home soon. Whatever antics Ray was up to couldn't do any harm. But then he sighed and started following, because ultimately he was responsible for the little weasel. More importantly, so was Lieutenant Fick. 

He kept behind at a discrete distance, while Ray zig-zagged his way around the cigarette factory until he finally ended up in a deserted corner at the rear of the compound. To his surprise, Lt. Fick was waiting there.

"You get it, Ray?" he was asking as Brad lurked behind a wall. 

"Of course." Ray handed something over. "One satellite phone, courtesy of the United States Marine Corps. Got it from the regimental assholes so hopefully if they miss it they won't look our way."

Brad couldn't think of a good reason for Fick to want a phone. Nothing that could justify the risk, anyway. If someone found out they'd shitcan his ass so fast his head would spin, and maybe throw in a few years in Leavenworth while they were at it. Something had to be terribly wrong, especially if he'd involved Ray. Na- Fick would never risk one of his men like that.

Brad stepped around the corner and ambled over casually. "Sir? What's going on?" he asked.

"Brad, there you are. We're trying to get this sorted," Fick said, flashing him a smile unlike any that Brad had seen in weeks. He punched in a number, and as he waited for it to connect he asked Ray, "Are you sure you didn't feel anything odd? Touch something?"

"This is just fucking typical," Ray ranted. "Rudy blows up shit in my face, and you blame me. McKay rips space-time a new one, and you blame me. Someone activates the latest Ancient bullshit machine, and once again you blame me. Well, Nate, I suggest you take your baseless accusations and shove them so far up your ass that even Brad's mythical Viking cock can't reach them."

"Sir," Brad said immediately, clamping a hand firmly on Ray's shoulder. "Corporal Person seems to be suffering from heat stroke. Please excuse his behavior and let me take him to Doc Bryan for treatment."

They both stared at him for a moment, then Fick said, "It only affected gene carriers."

"Hah!" Ray clapped his hands in delight. "I bet it's McTwink's fault! This is why no one likes going anywhere with Lorne. It's the fucking pollen thing all over again."

"Wait, hold on, he's picked up. Hi, Doctor Jackson?" Fick listened to something. "Oh. Of course, Mr. Quinn, I'm sorry. I'm Captain Nate Fick, we haven't met. Is, ah, Major Carter available? Well, maybe you can help. Can you think of a way to distinguish whether you have been mentally transposed into your own body in the past, as opposed to exchanged with an alternate universe version?" 

"Or sucked into a computer simulation," Ray suggested. To Brad, he added, "I'm hoping it's not that one. I always get paranoid that I haven't actually escaped."

Fick covered the receiver. "You can't say 'always' about something that hasn't happened."

"We think hasn't happened."

"Sir, I am beginning to be a bit concerned here," Brad told Fick. He'd been so happy to get such a competent and put-together platoon commander, and proud of how well he'd held up under the pressure. Now he worried that, distracted by the antics of other individuals, he'd missed Fick cracking in more subtle ways. It figured he'd be responsible and only go nuts after the mission was complete.

Ray breaking, well, that he'd seen coming a long time ago. 

"Asgard transporter to Baghdad. Really?" Fick said with a frown. There was a pause. "To shreds, you say."

"Corporal Person!" Brad turned around to see a furious grey-haired full-bird colonel storming their direction, followed by a harried blonde major. The uniforms labeled them as O'Neill and Carter respectively. "What did you do, you illiterate inbred son of a syphilitic snake!"

"Yeah, I see him now. Thanks." Fick closed the phone and pointed at the colonel. "JD, don't be a jackass. We don't know what triggered it. Or who."

Brad wasn't sure what startled him more: Ray somehow pissing off an Air Force colonel he'd never met, or Fick talking back to one.

"Don't try laying this on us, I know how your team operates." O'Neill glanced at Brad. "No offense to you, Brad. I know you're the sane one."

"Sir?"

"It only affected gene carriers," Ray said, "or as I like to say, superior beings."

"That would explain why Lorne called in and Cadman hasn't." O'Neill looked at Brad again more closely. "You must be really confused, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir," Brad replied, because he couldn't even begin to figure out what questions to ask. It was an unusual and extremely unsettling position. 

"The short story is that ten thousand years ago, some colossal asshole built a machine that swaps you with your mirror universe self, and Corporal Fumbles McFuckface here turned it on while we were all standing around it. Now it's 2003 again and all my joints are on fire."

"JD," Fick said tiredly, "stop baiting him."

Ray grinned. "I realize land nav has never been the Air Force's best skill, even among their frankly sad and rather pathetic so-called special forces, but you were several feet closer to the fancy pillar than I was."

"Ray, stop responding to his bait."

"No, no, Nate, I want to hear what Nevada, Missouri's finest meth-addled brain has to contribute."

Carter looked utterly scandalized. "Based on Colonel O'Neill's description of the object," she said hurriedly, "this phenomena may be related to the quantum mirror. Hopefully your own people are working on it from their end, but it'd be best to return to the SGC to see if we can find anything useful."

Fick shook his head. "I have to stay here. We've got a week or two before we leave country, and I can't abandon my men."

Brad wasn't sure how he felt about the way his stomach went momentarily topsy-turvy at the thought of Fick leaving them, or the relief that followed. 

"Oh, Christ," O'Neill muttered. "They're not really yours."

"Ours is the only universe of consequence?" Fick retorted. "I know your answer to that idea."

"So I'm just going to say upfront," Ray said, "that if Encino Man gives me any shit, I'm shooting him. Like, in the foot or something, but I'm not being paid to put up with him anymore."

"At this late date, that would cause a lot more problems than it solved," Fick replied. "We did all get through alive the first time."

"Tell that to all the dead civilians he got bombed."

"True, and I think tonight he's going to try to order us out into the city. Shooting's too obvious, though. It shouldn't be hard or suspicious to give him the shits."

"It's too bad this didn't happen a few days earlier, or I would run him over."

"First, you two have been hanging around with Gardner way too much," O'Neill said, "and second, no one is maiming or poisoning anyone, because I am ordering you to return to the SGC with me."

Fick crossed his arms. "I'm respectfully ignoring that order."

"In case you haven't noticed, it says colonel on my uniform!" 

"And I'm still your boss, time travel or no time travel."

Brad stepped a little closer to Carter and quietly asked, "Ma'am, does any of this make sense to you?"

"Sadly, yes," Carter sighed. "It's not actually the first time this has happened to the colonel."

"Really."

She nodded. "Admittedly, combining time travel, alternate universes, and body swapping is a bit over the top even for him."

"So LT, do you think this could be one of those Ancient teachable moments?" Ray asked. "Like, the machine is sending us to some key point in time to learn a lesson about friendship or some shit like that."

"That seems unlikely, Ray."

"I'm just saying, it seems odd that we're in the past. Maybe there's a confession you'd like to make? A metaphorical Sleeping Beauty you'd like to kiss ahead of schedule?"

"I didn't cause this, Ray," Fick said, shooting him an icy glare. "Let it drop."

"What about you?" Ray asked the colonel. "Have you planted a big one on Teal'c? Jackson? I'll assume you didn't try Carter since she's hasn't cut your balls off." 

"Tell you what, if you come back to the SGC, you can help me murder Ba'al," O'Neill suggested. "It'll be fun and we can stop this whole clone thing before it begins."

Fick's eyes narrowed. "That sounds like the sort of mission that you could use an entire recon platoon for."

"Now that you mention it, it does. I mean, what's George going to do, fire me?"

"We are not exposing Trombley to the stargate," Ray said. "No. Just stop."

"Shut up, Ray," Fick and O'Neill said. Fick continued, "You know where he is?"

"I know where he's going to repeatedly torture me to death next week."

"So not a lesson in friendship," Ray said, "but maybe murder is magic? Works for me." He gave Brad a smack on the arm. "With our own Christ-killer here, putting down that little Canaanite shit should be no problem."

"I'm dying," Brad said, mostly to himself. "I've been shot, or that bomb exploded just like the lieutenant told me it would, and now I'm hallucinating as I bleed out."

"I don't think that's the case," Carter said, "although I'm not ruling out that I've been dosed with something. Or stuck in a computer simulation."

"See!" Ray said.

"Carter, give me the locator beacon," O'Neill said with a little wave. "We're going to round up Nate's boys and get out of here before anyone can say otherwise."

"Sir, we really should talk with General Hammond before we hijack a bunch of marines. Does he even know we're here?"

"Well I'm a general too, and I say it's okay." Fick and Ray both gave O'Neill a skeptical look, and defensively he added, "Hey, I earned that star! Just because the other motherfucker stole it from me doesn't mean it's less valid. Sam, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Motherfucker?" she repeated. 

"Yeah, Sarah kind of beat that language out of me when Charlie was born, but these guys are bad influences. And, well, I can't say shit like that around Hammond, can I? You know a southern gentleman like him's never heard anything like it."

"He fought in Vietnam, sir. I think he has."

O'Neill frowned. "Huh. I never thought about it like that. I just sort of assumed he appeared fully-formed some day."

"1969, sir?"

"I try to forget that ever happened."

"I suppose as wedding presents go," Ray said, "giving Brad a real recon mission is a pretty top-notch one."

"Wedding?" Brad repeated. 

"Yeah, you and the LT. Nate. Prince Charming, whatever you want to call him."

Nate was starting to get that narrow-eyed crazy look that indicated he was about to lose his shit. "Ray, what the fuck did I just say about baiting? And alien marriages don't fucking count, you know that."

O'Neill eyed the lieutenant skeptically. "Did you actually get Teyla to annul it?"

"That's besides the fucking point. Can we please get this show on the road before it gets more fucking complicated than it already is? Any minute Reporter going to fucking show up, and I know how you feel about journalists."

"I still think we should invite him to Atlantis," Ray said. "Better than that Bergman guy. Although I wouldn't mind an up close and personal interview with Julie Donovan."

"You're not getting up close and personal with anyone if you keep this shit up," Fick muttered.

"Major," Brad said, "is there going to be alcohol wherever we're going?"

"God, I hope so," Carter replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: at the time the boys were invading Iraq, Jonas was around! I always liked him. This was originally going to be set at Matilda, but that got way too serious once all the implications were thought through. Like, Ray shooting Encino Man goes from joke to serious consideration as a way to save lives whatever the consequence for their duplicates. It was a bit heavy for what was basically a crack idea I had while driving home.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for what I've got written for this series. I have a few thousand more for a sequel but it'll be a while before that's at a stage to post. There is one other fic of GK bullshit in the pipe, though, completely unrelated to this one and basically a palate-cleanser. Stay tuned!


End file.
